


The Last Contract

by DarkCoffeeWitch



Category: BioWare - Fandom, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27505600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCoffeeWitch/pseuds/DarkCoffeeWitch
Summary: Crow assassin and mage, Octavio Verdasco, and ex-Templar Corbin Vael meet in a conflict that shakes both to the core. The only resolution can be death.
Kudos: 3





	The Last Contract

Shifting on the cushioned bench of the poorly suspensioned carriage, Corbin believed his ass might never recover its proper contours after the journey from Winter’s Breath to Denerim. Next to him, towheaded eight year old Rory leaned forward on the bench to peer underneath the window flap, despite the chill breeze that slunk in, and stare at the city of Denerim as they approached it, his eyes so wide that the light brown of his irises caught the afternoon light and flashed like honey in the sun. 

“I can see the tops of the towers of King Maric’s castle,” said Rory, turning to grin at Corbin. 

“It is a big home for one man, isn’t it?” asked Corbin with a matching grin. “What does he need all that space for?”

Rory rolled his eyes, knowing that his bodyguard was teasing him, “For his family, and his servants, and his soldiers, and his councilors.”

“And his bloody big pile of gold,” said Corbin with raised, mock-serious brows.

“And his bloody big pile of gold!” echoed Rory with enthusiasm.

“Ser Corbin,” said Katriel Winter, Rory’s mother and the wife of Bann Titus Winter, her mouth pressed into a thin line of disapproval, though her blue eyes betrayed an amused twinkle, “Please refrain from teaching my son to speak like common soldiery.” She was a stout blonde bred to thrive in the cold climes southern Fereldan was capable of producing, and her son had inherited her sturdy frame and constitution. 

“Of course, my lady,” said Corbin with all the sincerity he could muster. It was barely enough to smother his grin. He elbowed Rory, who echoed with a contrite, “I won’t speak like common soldiery, mother.”

Katriel leaned back and gave them both her most motherly look of disapproval, before she waved an excusing hand and said, “Oh, go find a horse, Ser Corbin, and take Rory out to see the scenery. You both tire me. And one, or both, of you have been passing wind since our last repast.”

Corbin raised one hand to hide the other and pointed at Rory. The boy saw the gesture and yelped, “I have not fart- um... passed wind! It was--”

“Get your cloak,” Corbin said with a grin, tossing the rich fur-lined garment over the boy’s head, mid protest. The former Templar opened the wooden door of the carriage and shouted, “Farley! Give me your horse, and get in here and keep Lady Winter safe.” He dipped his head back in and said to Katriel, “Wait till you smell Farley. Do you know what his nickname is?”

“What?” said Rory, pulling his cloak off his head and putting it over his shoulders.

Corbin helped the boy secure the cloak, and with a last pat, leaned in conspiratorially to the boy and said, “Fartley.”

Rory burst out laughing, and, before Katriel could protest, Corbin swung the boy up in his arms, through the open door, and onto the waiting destrier’s empty saddle in which Corbin himself landed a moment later, carefully lifting the boy to a comfortable place between himself and the cantle. 

The destrier, a heavy boned, bay gelding with a soft mouth, wheeled away from the small column of carts and escorts when Corbin put his heels to its sides. The horse moved into a rolling canter, snorting white plumes of breath in the cold air, as Rory laughed and leaned forward to pat its muscled neck. 

“He is a very good horse,” said Rory with the declarative absoluteness of the young.

“Yes,” agreed Corbin, “Fartley takes very good care of his animals. Never judge a man only by the wind from his ass.”

Next to them, the slow moving carts and mounted guards gradually slipped away as the obedient destrier carried Corbin and his charge ahead, over the road as it unwound on its long path to the city in the distance. Corbin knew a Chantry full of templars lay in the city, but he refused to allow himself to linger on the idea of seeing men and women devoted to the slaying of scared children in the name of Andraste. He would never harm a child again and had never regretted his decision to leave the order. 

Another horse, a swift, fine boned grey, cantered up on their left side and Rory called out, “Hello, father!”

Bann Titus Winter, hair the color of steel that matched his mount, grinned at Rory and Corbin, his heavy burgundy cloak barely stirring in the wind, “Did Katriel throw you out?”  
“Something like that,” replied Corbin with a laugh, his own cloak snapping around him, but his padded cuirass kept him plenty warm enough. “I took Farley’s horse, so he is riding with Lady Katriel.”

The Bann’s expression immediately sobered, “Corbin, she will kill me.”

“She will kill me before you, my lord,” said the ex-Templar jauntily.

Rory leaned back to look at Corbin, “Mother would never kill papa. She loves him. And she would never kill you Corbin, because who would protect me if you weren’t here?”

“All of your father’s men would protect you,” said Corbin.

“But you’re the best,” Rory stated in staunch loyalty.

“But I am the best,” agreed Corbin with a wink of one blue green eye.

When the city began to grow large in front of the column, Corbin reined the destrier back to a walk and rode to the carriage, handing Rory back in and then dismounting himself and handing the reins back to a disgruntled and walking Farley, who Katriel had sent outside almost the moment he tried to enter the carriage. Corbin lightly leapt into the carriage and closed the door, energized by his brief ride and looking forward to arriving at Arl Kendell’s keep, watching others celebrate Satinalia, and getting back home safely with Rory and his parents. The sooner, the better.


End file.
